


4: Job Benefits

by ANTchan



Series: Rogue One Smut-a-thon [4]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Established Wedge Antilles/Luke Skywalker, Idiots in Love, Lingerie, Lingerie Model Bodhi Rook, M/M, Panty Kink, Polyamory Confusion, Prompt Fic, Roommates, Sexual Tension, Smut, they need to talk, undernegotiated polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 11:10:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15948152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ANTchan/pseuds/ANTchan
Summary: Prompt: Bodhi/Wedge, lingerie, sex with panties still on/too desperate to get undressed entirely.Bodhi’s been at his new job a week, and already Wedge Antilles isn’t sure he’s going to survive it.





	4: Job Benefits

**Author's Note:**

> After months of agonizing over this fic that wasn't SUPPOSED to be a whole au, I return with more lingerie au~. Where Bodhi is a budding lingerie model, and Wedge and Luke REALLY need to get their acts together and talk to him about this whole polyamory thing.
> 
> This fic is part of the (forever) ongoing Rogue One Smut-a-thon!
> 
> Special, SPECIAL thanks to rogueshadows and sassysnowperson for being betas, sounding boards, and general cheerleaders when I just wanted to throw this fic off a cliff!

\--------------------1---------------------

Bodhi’s been at his new job a week, and already Wedge Antilles isn’t sure he’s going to survive it. He’s done his best to be supportive. He went out with Bodhi and Luke to celebrate the night Bodhi accepted the job offer. He helped Bodhi puzzle over his contract before Bodhi had taken it to Kay Tueso to look over. He’s genuinely _happy_ for his friend.

But Wedge is only human. And there’s only so much he can take. 

Seeing him that first night had been torture enough - Wedge had come home with the promised Chinese food to find Bodhi in sheer black stockings, women’s boyshort briefs, and the soft university hoodie that had belonged to Wedge at some point. How Wedge didn’t simply die on the spot is still beyond him. What’s worse is that Bodhi had watched him throughout the night, expectant when he thought Wedge wasn’t paying attention.

But Wedge hadn’t acted on the silent, near invitation, even though he’d wanted to… to do _several_ unspeakable things in that moment. Even though he’d made no move to hide his appreciative glances. 

Luke had several words to say about that, of course. Most of them teasing.

“You’re being so _noble_ ,” he snickered that night in the dark, after they’d climbed into bed. 

(They’d forgone their typical song and dance to try and get Bodhi to join them that night. It’d felt too… forward for Wedge to be comfortable with. Usually they make some excuse about bingeing a show Bodhi likes to lure him into their bed until he falls asleep. It’s still silly that Bodhi makes himself sleep out on that couch, anyway.)

Wedge had shrugged the teasing off, then, with a playful shove and a scoffed: “We had a _deal_ to be careful. I’m being careful!”

“We said we’d be careful so he wouldn’t think sex was what we wanted him here for,” Luke hissed back, with his own nudge to Wedge’s arm. “But he was waiting for you to do something!”

And Wedge had known that he was going to regret not _doing something_ \- even so much as to going over and kissing him. That particular feeling has been familiar in the last several months where Bodhi is concerned. (The last few _years_ , if he’s completely honest with himself.) But he hadn’t expected to regret it quite like this.

Because Bodhi, in a fit of either obliviousness or outright revenge, is out to kill him.

Once Bodhi had signed on with this company, his first week was all about fittings, designs, and more fittings. To find his “style,” Bodhi had explained to them. 

Except what happens is that Wedge gets several texts everyday, describing what kind of lingerie Bodhi is testing out, how it feels to wear, and, at the end of the fitting session, at least one selfie of Bodhi sporting the day’s outfit in the dressing room mirror.

Yesterday had been a blue lace garter belt and delicate white stockings. And only a tiny pair of panties to hide his modesty. _I think this is my favorite look_ , the text had read. _Thoughts?_

Wedge has several thoughts, in fact. 

Many of them are pleas for mercy.

\--------------------2---------------------

It’s Luke who texts him in the end, and Wedge jumps as his phone buzzes. He’s understandably on edge after surviving a week of Bodhi’s life-threatening texts. His phone has been treated as a ticking time bomb, and will be for the foreseeable future.

_Bodhi needs a ride home from work and Ben’s keeping me busy. Can you pick him up?_

Wedge narrows his eyes at the text, his hackles immediately, and justifiably, raised.

_**What’s Crazy Old Ben got you doing?** _

**__** _He wants me to catalogue this collection of Victorian demonology tools he picked up… somewhere. I need to take photos and label and organize everything by his stupidly convoluted filing system. It’s gonna take me all night, so you’ll need to go get Bodhi._

Wedge knows better, knows _Luke_ too well to take his words at face value. He’s got a nagging feeling that Luke’s newest assignment from Ben Kenobi isn’t as involved as he’s making it out to be. No, Luke is plotting - in that endearingly obvious way of his. But Wedge, because he’s a sucker, doesn’t call him on it. 

At least, not yet.

 _Kyber & Lace_ is located in an unremarkable high rise downtown. Wedge would never have distinguished it from any other building on the block if not for the pin on the map or for the unassuming name in the building directory.

Wedge parks his motorcycle in the garage, doing his best not to look as out of place as he feels, sticking out among the sharply dressed business workers in suits with his jeans and leather jacket. No one stops him in the brightly lit building lobby. He’s not sure what he’s expecting when the elevator opens up onto the ninth floor. Bold floor-to-ceiling photos of some of their models? Men and women alike walking around in various states of undress?

But the foyer of _Kyber & Lace _is decorated in warm colors, dark woods and a stained glass partition that the receptionist’s desk sits in front of. The attendant behind the desk glances up as Wedge wanders closer, arching an expertly shaped brow at him.

“Welcome,” they greet. And whatever politeness in it is ruined with their next question. “Are you lost or do you belong here?”

Wedge shoves his hands into his pockets as casually as he can. “Uh… hey. I’m looking for Bodhi Rook? I’m his ride.”

The attendant’s brows arch even higher. “Name?”

“Wedge Antilles.”

A quick flick of their eyes over the screen in front of them, and their equally perfectly painted mouth twists. “Sorry, it doesn’t look like you’re on my list. And that’s not a name I’d forget.”

Wedge is about to argue, when a voice chimes from over his shoulder: “Don’t worry, El. I’ll take responsibility for this one.” He whirls to find Cassian standing at his side, the barest hint of a sly grin curling his mouth.

“C-Cass, hey!” The stammer in his voice has Wedge grimacing. The last time he’d seen Cassian had been… only a few days ago in fact. Not in person, but on the _Kyber & Lace _website, after scouring it for… for completely logical reasons. Making sure Bodhi is getting into something legitimate and not shady - those reasons. 

And by the heat of his face, and the amused flash in Cassian’s dark eyes, he must suspect that to be the case. “You here to pick up Bodhi?” he asks casually.

“Yeah-- yeah, Luke is being held up at Ben’s and couldn’t ah… make it.”

Cassian’s brows arch knowingly. Infuriatingly. “I’m sure he couldn’t. It was nice of you to come in his place.” And that’s just a bit too teasing for Wedge’s liking. His glare only seems to amuse Cassian further.

“Are you done blocking my desk with your flirting?”

Wedge flushes, a sharp, disbelieving laugh on his lips. Cassian rolls his eyes, but if Wedge isn’t mistaken, there’s a slight blush to his cheeks as well.

“Sorry, El. We’ll leave.”

El tips their head at the pair of them, and shoos them away with a wave of their hand. Wedge forces himself not to jolt as Cassian’s hand flits between his shoulder blades, innocently guiding him behind the stained glass partition. 

“Your receptionist is… something,” Wedge huffs as they go out of earshot. “Great customer service.”

“We like El. They’re competent. Keeps the riffraff away,” Cassian jokes, squeezing his shoulder. Wedge elbows him.

The space Cassian leads him into is bright and open, and filled with people that are not at all like the stiff business workers that he’d encountered in the lobby. People of all types, ages, and styles weave around them, many carrying tablets or rolls of paper or fabric. They bustle around stations on various projects that Wedge doesn’t linger long enough to peer at.

Near the center of the room they approach a table where a man with close cropped dark hair and elegant, loose fitting clothes, and a young man with an eye-catching suit and a stylish swagger to his stance are in deep conversation over a flowing, sheer nightgown. The older of the two pauses mid- a gesture, his head tipping as they near.

“Cassian,” he calls in accented English, a small, bright smile flickering across his face. “I told you, you were free for the day. Go home, workaholic. You’re too young for such things!”

“Chirrut,” Cassian returns the greeting. “I won’t be here long. I found Bodhi’s ride being put through the El treatment out front.”

“Oh, rescued him, did you?” The man turns and holds out his hand, though his angle is slightly off at first. Wedge glimpses the white cane in Chirrut’s other hand and makes a small sound in his throat instinctively, to at least give _some_ indication of his presence. A wry smile flickers over Chirrut’s face, and the angle of his stance corrects. Obviously Wedge’s gesture wasn’t nearly as subtle as he hoped. He shakes the older man’s hand instead, happy that at least he can’t see Wedge blush.

“I am Chirrut Imwe, owner of this little circus,” he says, and gestures towards the younger man at his side. “And this is Mister Lando Calrissian, my young protégé in training.”

“Aren’t we all your young protégés in training? Your precious next generation of _Kyber & Lace?_” Lando grins, a slick, utterly charming expression.

“Yes, of course, but you’re the one with the drive and skill for design.”

“We’ll see about that - if you ever approve my ideas for this damn thing.” He nods to Wedge, and offers his hand as well. That charming smile is turned on him, certainly affective. “Pleasure to meet you…”

“Wedge-- Wedge Antilles. Bodhi’s friend.” Wedge steps back, towards the familiar territory that is Cassian, and hopes his discomfort isn’t too obvious.

Chirrut flashes a fond smile. “Ah, Bodhi was just finishing up today’s shoot. For our In Plain Sight line. He’s been wonderful with it so far. Baze has had nothing but praise for him - developing a soft spot for the newest member of our team.”

“You’re the only one who could say that and get away with it,” Cassian mutters from behind Wedge’s shoulder. 

“Oh, I think you vastly overestimate my powers,” Chirrut snickers and then crooks a finger in Wedge’s direction. “I can take you the rest of the way, if you’d like?”

Wedge turns and shoots Cassian a panicked look, and the man’s shoulder shake in silent laughter. “I’ll come with you, Chirrut. Lead the way. I have to see this.”

“See what?” Wedge mutters under his breath as they set off again. 

Cassian’s smirk should have warned him. Because “what” turns out to be the three of them walking around a partition at the back of the open room, and straight into a photoshoot. The only thing separating this area is a thin curtain, but to Wedge the noise from behind it dims, his eyes locked on the activity at the center of the room.

Past the few bustling assistants, it’s Bodhi that stands against the backdrop. His stance has taken on a casual sprawl, clothed in dark wash jeans and a white t-shirt that clings perfectly to his broad shoulders and slim waist. And Wedge’s mouth goes dry, because his jeans are unbuttoned, hanging loose at the hips and revealing the tantalizing peek of red lace underneath.

Wedge thinks he might be screaming, if only inside his own head.

“So this is the new line?” Cassian’s voice breaks into his silent, world-ending crisis.

Chirrut hums, tucking his cane close to his side. “It is. Casual and discreet. Thin, so they can’t be seen underneath clothes.”

“I need to order some for myself,” Cassian sighs wistfully. And that’s a thought that Wedge is not going to follow - or else he may die on the spot.

“How’s he doing? I’ve been told he looks lovely in them. Baze said the test shots went wonderfully.”

“Beautiful,” Wedge mutters. And immediately flushes when Cassian’s eyes flick in his direction, and even Chirrut graces him with a small, knowing smile.

Across the room, the photographer - a tall, barrel-chested man with dark hair pulled into a messy ponytail and gray hair flecked in his beard - instructs Bodhi in a voice that is gruff, but not unkind. “Tip your head this way, Bodhi. Relax your shoulders more.” He directs Bodhi into the next alluring pose, focused entirely on his subject. The poses are inviting and even teasing, but never outright sexual. (It’s a relief, somewhere at the back of Wedge’s mind, to see the proof that his friend isn’t getting exploited.)

Bodhi’s eyes cast about the room between shots, his eyes landing on Wedge, and every muscle in Wedge’s body tenses, an inexplicable urge to bolt. It feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room. That the world has narrowed down to just the two of them. At first Bodhi’s eyes go wide, the two of them simply gazing at the other across the room. And then his lips curve into a slow smile, sweet and promising, and just slightly mischievous. 

Wedge knows, just from that moment, that he’s definitely in trouble.

Bodhi continues to glance at him through the next few photos, and where he was alluring before, he’s now downright _sensual_ , his gaze intent from under the dark smudge of his lashes. A touch of an impish smile on his lips - that’s not just for the camera anymore. Wedge thinks he hears Cassian snicker under his breath.

He reaches over and slugs Cassian none too gently in the arm.

“Excellent, Bodhi, excellent,” the photographer says at last, straightening as he checks the last round of pictures on his camera. His eyes slyly flick in Wedge’s direction, much to Wedge’s continued humiliation. Obviously Cassian wasn’t the only one painfully aware of Bodhi’s game. He mercifully doesn’t call attention to it, however. “Are you ready for the last round?”

The question is innocent, but Wedge instantly knows something is amiss. Because a light flashes through Bodhi’s eyes, his smile widening. His gaze flickers over to Wedge’s side of the room, before he clearly forces himself keep his eyes on the task at hand. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

“You’re in trouble,” Cassian laughs quietly.

Wedge can’t even work up the energy to glare at him. “Fuck, I _am_.”

An assistant approaches Bodhi, bottle of water in hand. Bodhi eyes her as she nears. “Please tell me that’s at least room temp.”

“I considered keeping it in the fridge for a while,” the assistant teases, “but no, it’s fine. You ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Rather than hand Bodhi the bottle, the assistant uncaps it, and promptly tips it over Bodhi’s head. Bodhi jolts, a strangled yelp leaving his mouth, but he cranes his head to let the dripping water cascade over his t-shirt. Which goes transparent and clings to Bodhi’s chest, revealing the distinct shape of a red bralette under his shirt.

Wedge, possibly, forgets how to breathe.

The water clings to Bodhi’s dark lashes as he glances in Wedge’s direction. His hair shines a glossy black, tumbling in wet, curling waves over his shoulder. The assistant arranges it for him before stepping back, giggling as Bodhi shivers.

“The things we do for the art, hm?” the photographer chuckles warmly. Wedge thinks he glimpses the ghost of a smile on Chirrut’s face as the man speaks.

Wedge barely keeps from jumping out of his skin when Cassian lays a hand on his shoulder. His eyes sparkle with silent laughter when Wedge turns to look at him. “I think you can handle it from here, yeah?”

He swallows thickly, but manages a weak. “Sure. I’ll be… fine.”

Cassian leaves him there, at Bodhi’s mercy. Wedge is somehow both grateful for it and has the absurd need to call Cassian back at the same time. But luckily the photoshoot wraps up quickly after that. The photographer, Baze, gets what it is he’s looking for, and calls the production to a halt. Bodhi steps away from the backdrop, the practiced line of his shoulders relaxing. The smile he sends in Wedge’s direction sends a shiver straight to his toes. 

The wet t-shirt clings to the slim line of his waist as he walks towards a partitioned dressing room. Wedge’s eyes trace down the lines of his back, over the sinfully tight jeans still clinging to his hips. 

_‘There really isn’t a panty line,’_ he thinks, and quickly drags his gaze back up, jittery and wondering if the people around him could somehow overhear his thoughts. 

He clears his throat, folding his arms across his chest and trying to look inconspicuous. Chirrut has left his side - thankfully no longer there to silently judge him on his… less than subtle distraction. Chirrut idly taps his cane against the ground as he heads in Baze’s direction, though his doesn’t truly seem to rely on it, swiftly dodging around employees or light stands. When he reaches his companion, Chirrut lays a hand on the man’s arm. Baze had seemed fully aware of the man’s approach, but still the touch seems to shock him. 

If Chirrut notices the flinch, he doesn’t call attention to it, and the two of them spend the next few minutes with their heads bent together, speaking quietly as Baze cycles through the photos from the shoot. Wedge observes them discreetly for a while.

Eventually Bodhi reappears from behind the curtained partition, dressed in his own clothes. Seeing Bodhi dressed in his familiar, less clinging, t-shirt and jeans should be a relief. But all it does is make Wedge feel conflicted.

Bodhi doesn’t quite look him in the eye as he nears, his smile coy. “Ready to go?” Wedge asks him, before Bodhi even has the chance to say hello - or before Wedge does something truly inadvisable.

“Yeah. Thanks for coming to get me. I’m sure Luke appreciates not being the center of gossip this time around.”

“People here gossip about Luke?”

Bodhi actually blushes a little at that. “You… well, you know. It’s, uh, Luke. You know him.”

“You’re right, I _do_ know Luke.” Oh god, he can only imagine. Luke has a tendency to forget where the line between friendly and flirtatious is, and with this _thing_ with Bodhi… well. “Wait, does that mean _I’m_ the new hot gossip around the office? Why? I’ve been here for all of twenty minutes.”

Bodhi gestures meaningfully to the group of Baze’s assistants, who are, yes, watching them closely. 

Wedge feels his own face heat. “Oh.”

He lets Bodhi lead him back out the way Wedge had come in. But now instead of watching the busy flow of work at _Kyber & Lace,_ Wedge watches individual faces. Faces that turn curiously in his direction. Secret, curious smiles shared between coworkers as he and Bodhi pass by. The words he can’t hear, and not sure that he _wants_ to hear, whispered the moment they’re out of earshot. 

El even _winks_ at him as they go by her desk.

By the time they enter the elevator, Wedge is sure his face has gone a noticeable pink. Why Bodhi doesn’t acknowledge it, especially with that little display during the photoshoot, is beyond him.

“Did you bring the bike?” Bodhi asks, after several moments where the only sound had been the hum of the elevator. His eyes dart over the lines of Wedge’s leather jacket, not quite smothering the gleam of appreciation in them.

God, why does he have to make doing the right thing so _difficult?_ “Uh, yeah. Brought you a helmet.”

“Good. I’ve missed riding with you. Remember when you used to take that thing up into the hills after you first got it? We’d zip around the curves as fast as we could?”

A smile touches Wedge’s lips at the memory. “You mean, back when you said I was crazy and you were never going to ride with me on that death trap again?” he teases.

“Hey, did I ever actually say no?”

No, no he never did. At least, not until Luke happened. And then things had become strange and unspoken, even when _Wedge and Luke_ became _Wedge and Luke and sometimes Bodhi._

“I’ve missed it too,” he admits, catching Bodhi’s eyes. He means every word of it and more.

\--------------------3---------------------

How Wedge survives the trip back to the apartment, he’ll never know. As if everything at _Kyber & Lace _hadn’t been trying enough, riding back through the city with Bodhi pressed up behind him was tantamount to torture. Even if Bodhi hadn’t called back to their days in college, racing around the hills just like this, Wedge would have been thinking about it the whole way back.

He’s missed Bodhi being so close. Which is laughable and so goddamn sad all at once. Bodhi’s never stopped being apart of his life - but at some point Wedge has begun to miss what’s right in front of him.

The fact that Bodhi doesn’t tease him after leaving the building, when it would be so easy to, only sets him more on edge. The distance yawns wide between them in the silent elevator ride up to their floor. Unlike before, Bodhi’s eyes facing straight ahead doesn’t seem casual. No, instead it seems like he’s avoiding Wedge’s eyes altogether. It’s just starting to get to him, making him start to wonder if he’s done something wrong, when Bodhi suddenly bites his lip, his eyes not quite glancing over.

“Hey,” he begins hesitantly, “Wedge, you know, if I… if I pushed too much, back there…”

Wedge startles. “ _What?_ ”

“Look, if I crossed a line, I’m sorry. It was fun, but I couldn’t take it if I pushed you away by being an idiot.” Bodhi tucks a loose strand of hair back behind his ear, his eyes lowering once more. Like that, he misses Wedge’s flabbergasted stare. “I can stop.”

The elevator dings before Wedge can answer. Bodhi slips through the doors ahead of him, already making his way down the hall. Still reeling, Wedge hesitates just a few seconds too long.

A dismayed sound lodges in his throat. Wedge is out of the elevator and making after Bodhi without thinking, striding with purpose towards him. He grasps Bodhi’s wrist, pausing him in unlocking the door - with a key that _they_ gave him, that was rightfully _his_ to have. Wedge can feel Bodhi startle, feel his eyes on him as Wedge completes the task and shoulders the door open, tugging Bodhi inside after him.

Bodhi opens his mouth to speak, but Wedge shakes his head quietly. And perhaps Bodhi sees something in his expression in the moment before he crowds Bodhi against the door, because his dark eyes spark and shine with realization and need.

Wedge is already moving in, but Bodhi’s hands clenched in the lapels of his jacket pull him the rest of the way into the kiss. His hands twist, anchoring Wedge in place - as if he was even considering pulling away. Bodhi’s mouth is hot under his own, beard scratching against Wedge’s face, but he only presses closer, desperate to swallow the strangled moan that leaves Bodhi’s mouth. 

And damnit, Wedge has _missed this_ so much. Why had he ever stopped? Why had he and Luke let this get away from them?

(Luke, who had been all too happy to tell him all about what it was like to kiss Bodhi again. To watch him slink around the apartment in his cute panties. To back Bodhi against the wall and slide to his knees for him.

Wedge had never felt so turned on and viciously jealous in his life.)

“Fucking _finally_ ,” Bodhi pants into the kiss, nipping sharply at Wedge’s lower lip when he starts to smirk. “Do you have… any idea… how long…?”

“You’ve been driving me _insane_ all week,” Wedge hisses back. His hands stroke down Bodhi’s sides, giving his hips a firm squeeze, digging his fingers in until Bodhi gasps. He wants nothing more than to devour every breath, every sound from Bodhi’s lips. To spend the rest of the night kissing him until his mouth is a swollen, bitten-red wreck. “Those damn _pictures!_ ”

“Like them?”

If he’s still got the presence of mind to sound cheeky, then Wedge certainly hasn’t kissed him enough. A snarl rumbles low in is throat, and for all his bravado, Bodhi shivers against him at the sound. Smirking, Wedge dips to grasp Bodhi by his thighs and haul him up, swallowing Bodhi’s tiny, hiccuping gasp with a fierce kiss. He lets his weight do most of the work, pinning Bodhi to the door while he squeezes his hands under his thighs. Bodhi’s legs wind around his waist without much urging, hands all but clawing at Wedge’s shoulders.

“Fuck, Wedge…”

“Now there’s an idea.”

Bodhi laughs, a giddy, half strangled sound that seems to take him by complete surprise. It’s a beautiful sound, and Wedge isn’t sure if he wants to hear it again or kiss it from Bodhi’s lips until he goes breathless. He settles for somewhere in the middle, capturing Bodhi’s mouth in a searing kiss before ducking his head, seeking the sharp angle of Bodhi’s jaw with his teeth. 

Bodhi shudders in his arms, arching into him. The laughter, the _sass_ , flickers out of his voice as Bodhi breathes a low moan in his ear. Wedge trails hot kisses along Bodhi’s throat, sucking at his pulse and knowing it’s going to leave a mark. That Bodhi’s going to have to have it covered up for the next time he has a photoshoot or a fitting. And somehow that thought is even more appealing - something that will fuel the office gossip of _Kyber & Lace_ while Bodhi walks around with Wedge’s love bite on his elegant throat. 

His breath lodges in his throat, a jolt of pleasure rippling through him just as he imagines it. The sheer depth of it startles him. It’s something beyond desire or lust, and into words like _passion_ and _possession_. The force of it makes his knees go weak. He knows, dimly, that he must be crushing Bodhi, but the other man doesn't seem to mind. He lets out a breathless whimper, fingers digging into Wedge's leather jacket as he does his best to grind against him.

His teeth sink into the tender juncture of Bodhi's neck and shoulder, his muffled curse drowned out by Bodhi's sharp cry. He rocks into the clumsy bucking of Bodhi’s hips, fire sparking along his nerves at the feeling of Bodhi’s cock rubbing up against him through his jeans. The thought of keeping Bodhi like this crosses his mind. Wedge imagines how easy it would be just to keep Bodhi in his arms and let them move together until Bodhi comes for him, fully clothed and desperate. Awkward fumblings over clothes and over too soon.

It certainly wouldn’t be a first for them. 

It’s an appealing idea, but not a satisfying one. Not after Bodhi has _teased him_ for a week straight. 

“I want you,” he rasps, nipping at Bodhi’s jaw with each word.

Bodhi manages a breathless chuckle. “Think you have me pretty good right here.”

That’s not _nearly_ enough. “I want all of you,” is all he answers with. His hands slide up between Bodhi and the door, clutching him close so he can step away. Bodhi curses and clings tighter to him.

Wedge walks them the short distance from the door into the living room, only having to take a few, somewhat unbalanced, strides in their tiny apartment. Bodhi’s teeth find the shell of his ear somewhere along the way, which doesn’t make carrying him any easier. 

He lets his hold slip as they near the couch, letting Bodhi slide back onto his own two feet. The sensuous friction of Bodhi rubbing against him is almost too much. He leans in just as Bodhi’s hands cup his jaw, pulling him in the rest of the way. Their kiss meets in the middle, slick and hot, Bodhi’s lips parting against his, his tongue tracing gently over Wedge’s lower lip.

Bodhi’s hands hold him in place, letting him blindly fumble to get rid of his leather jacket, all but ripping it off of his shoulders in his haste.

“You’re not keeping it on?” Bodhi teases, voice low and breathless against his mouth. He nibbles playfully at Wedge’s lip. “Shame. It looks good on you.”

Wedge huffs, pressing back in as his jacket falls to the floor. His hands grasp at Bodhi’s shoulders, at the back of his neck, guiding him down onto the couch. It breaks their kiss, drawing unhappy sounds from the both of them. Hearing Bodhi’s desperation sends heat lancing through him. He wants to hear more sounds like that - wants Bodhi to _need_ his touch.

It’ll be nice not to be the only one feeling overwhelmed by this.

He follows Bodhi onto the couch, pushing him to lay across it. Bodhi’s eyes have gone dark and half-lidded, sparkling up at him. His mouth already red and slick from too-eager kisses and nips. He looks like a dream sprawled on their cheap sofa. 

(Just like he looked like a dream spread out over scratchy dorm room sheets, Wedge can’t help but remember.)

The turn of his thoughts brings a groan to Wedge’s lips. “You looking at me like that is exactly how we got here,” he accuses, his harsh tone softened by a playful smirk.

Bodhi’s smile in return somehow manages to be both impish and bashful all at once. “Yeah? You gonna do anything about it?”

“You little--” His snarl only makes Bodhi _laugh_ , the jerk. He swoops in to stifle it with kisses, settling his weight against Bodhi. Bodhi’s hands clutch at the back of his shirt, his legs coming up to bracket Wedge’s hips so he can settle between them. Every line of Bodhi is pressed so intimately against him, warm and solid, and he feels so perfect. He never wants to let him go. (It’s his desire talking, he knows. It’s the moment, he _knows._ And yet…)

They move together in the tight, barely restrained grind of hips. Bodhi’s hands roam over his back, tugging at his shirt, fighting to reach skin. He moans shamelessly into Wedge’s kisses when he finally succeeds, nails raking across his lower back. The sting has Wedge shivering, arching into him with a sharp buck of his hips. 

He only sits up when Bodhi starts to grope at the waistband of his jeans, fingers eagerly dipping beneath it, rough caresses low on his hips. “Don’t!” is Bodhi’s frantic gasp as he pulls away. His hands twists in Wedge’s shirt, his eyes dark and glittering as he tries to tug Wedge back down to him. “If you stop now, I’m going to lose it.”

A laugh bursts from his chest. “ _You’re_ going to--” Does Bodhi have any idea what it’s been like for him - from the moment he’d come home to Bodhi prancing about the apartment in his stockings and Wedge’s own hoodie?

“I’ve wanted this,” Bodhi says, his voice going rough, almost a growl of desperation. “This is… if you stop now, I won’t be able to take it.”

Wedge can’t help the dizzying flip of his heart thudding against his ribs. Can’t help that he, in a part of him that he has ruthlessly suppressed, wants those words to be about something more than the lust they’ve been dancing around this past week.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says in a low whisper. He grasps Bodhi’s searching hands, pressing a kiss to his fingers before taking both his wrists in one hand. He holds them close to him, a suggestion of restraint that makes Bodhi’s eyes widen and his breath hitch. “I’m not letting you go now.”

Bodhi doesn’t have an answer to that, which is more than alright. Wedge takes advantage of his stillness, bringing a hand between his legs, cupping his dick over the rough denim of his jeans and adding just enough pressure for Bodhi to let out a whimper. 

“Wedge, come on…” Bodhi urges.

But for at least this moment, Wedge is content to play with him. The desperate rush in his veins has quieted, a brief respite where he can enjoy fondling Bodhi over his clothes, stroking the line of his cock through his pants. He watches Bodhi arch and buck against his hand, head tipping back against the couch. The long line of his throat is too much of a temptation, and Wedge shifts, bending over him to brush hot, open-mouthed kisses to his neck.

Eventually he gives in to Bodhi’s wordless pleas, releasing his hands in favor of unfastening his jeans with unsteady fingers.

The slightest hint of red lace under his hands brings him to a dead stop. His _stares_ , frozen in place by just the tiniest sight of them. His throat has gone dry. “You--”

And Bodhi, damn him, _damn him_ , has the nerve to smile up at him. The wavering, slightly giddy chuckle draws Wedge’s eyes up, tracking over Bodhi’s too-pink mouth, his flushed cheeks, and shining eyes. “They’re… They were mine to keep, so…”

Wedge makes a sound like he’s _dying._ He _feels_ like he’s dying. He’s sure that he actually forgets how to breathe as he gazes down at Bodhi, with his shirt rucked up over his stomach, that hazy smile on his face, and the red lace panties peeking out of his open jeans. 

“Fuck,” he hisses into the silence. And shifts over Bodhi, reaching past him to tug at the couch cushions.

“Uh… Wedge?”

Wedge grunts, sticking a hand between the cushions and searching around, increasingly frantic. 

“What are you doing?”

“You still hide lube near where you sleep? Used to be between your mattress and the wall back in college…”

Beneath him, Bodhi sputters and turns pink. “I wouldn’t-- This is your _living room_ , Wedge--”

Wedge swivels his gaze around, pinning Bodhi with a knowing look.

Bodhi’s mouth clicks shut. And after a moment he sighs, grumbles, and stretches up to dig into the couch cushions in the far corner, until he comes up with a small, half full bottle. He shoves it into Wedge’s hand, a blush high on his cheeks, almost quicker than Wedge can grab it from him. “You’ve at least got a plan for that, right?” he gripes.

He scoffs, diving down to kiss the annoyed frown off Bodhi’s handsome face. “Are you doubting me?”

“After this week?”

An offended sounds leaves his mouth. “Jerk,” he scolds. He sets the bottle aside, nudging insistently at Bodhi’s hips, hooking his fingers into his belt loops and tugging. “Come on, off.”

Bodhi answers his demand by flashing him a grin, and squirming over onto his front, arching his hips up so he can shove his jeans down, revealing the rest of his new panties. Wedge is thoroughly distracted by how nicely they cling to the curve of his backside. He swallows, throat gone tight. “You’re a _tease_ ,” he accuses. And Bodhi starts to laugh at him, but it quickly turns into a breathy rasp as Wedge gives in, and runs his hands up the line of his thighs and over his lingerie-clad ass. He runs his fingers over the delicate pattern of the lace, taking handfuls of Bodhi’s ass and squeezing just to hear the addicting rumble of a moan from him. “You’ve been a tease all week, Bodhi!” he says again.

“Then do something about it, _fuck_.” 

Oh, he will. It’s the only thought in Wedge’s mind now. He merely hooks his fingers in the band of Bodhi’s panties, tugging them out of the way, stroking the pad of his thumb along his crease until Bodhi shudders and arches back into the touch. Bodhi shifts on the couch, folding his arms beneath his head and pressing his face into them, shamelessly curving his hips up for more. 

Wedge answers with a low, pleased hum, stroking at his rim with just enough pressure to make Bodhi’s breath come in short, unsteady gasps, moving with the insistent bucking of his hips. When he stops, Bodhi _whines_ back at him. 

“Shh,” Wedge murmurs, mindless as he flicks the bottle open and quickly slicks his fingers. He returns to what he was doing, again not even bothering to try and take the panties off before he rubs slick fingers over his hole. It’s so, so easy to ease fingers into him, first one and then two with only minor resistance. Bodhi lets out a breathy “ _Oh, oh fuck,”_ and presses back, taking Wedge’s fingers deeper. 

Wedge groans at the sight of him, rocking back onto his fingers without shame. He gropes at his ass with his free hand, hard enough to leave quickly fading marks when Wedge releases him in favor of sliding a hand underneath him. He closes his hand around Bodhi’s cock, straining against the front of his panties, giving him a squeeze. And Bodhi _jolts_ , a broken sound muffled against his folded arms, his hips rocking between Wedge’s hand at his cock and the fingers working him open. 

He’s so goddamn _gorgeous_ that Wedge can hardly stand it.

Wedge twists his fingers in him, crooking, testing, spreading Bodhi open until he shakes. Until he starts to beg, words muffled against the couch. “Wedge, _fuck, please._ Now-- come on, please…”

Bodhi isn’t the only one shaking at the moment. He dips, nuzzling into the soft cotton of Bodhi’s t-shirt, mouthing kisses between his shoulder blades. “You ready?”

“Yes! Yeah, _hurry up_.”

Wedge nips between his shoulders, smothering a weak groan. “Gotcha.” He sits up, his heart hammering against his ribs. The needy sound Bodhi makes the moment he stops touching him rattles him to his core. He fumbles with his jeans, hands jittery. He doesn’t want to get up to take them off. Doesn’t want to waste another second of this. He only shoves them slightly off his hips, just enough to free his aching cock. 

It takes everything he has not to simply fuck into his own hand as he slicks himself up. Not only does Bodhi make the most beautiful picture, hips arched invitingly and his panties a disorderly red lace mess, but he’s also propped himself back up so he can peer over his shoulder, eyes dark and radiating so much _need._ The force of how much Bodhi wants this knocks the breath from his lungs. 

He wants to move forward and kiss Bodhi the rest of the way to _senseless_. He wants to gather him up in his arms and feel him shake apart. Wedge wants _a lot of things_ , that he’s been trying so hard not to think about for too long. 

He settles for pressing a hand to the small of Bodhi’s back, soothing a hand up his spine. Bodhi all but melts under the touch, sinking back down against the couch. Wedge keeps a hand there, keeping Bodhi where he is as runs gentle fingers over his rim one last time, testing the slick, before hastily, unsteadily lining himself up. The mere touch of Wedge’s cock against his entrance makes Bodhi tremble, makes them both forget to breathe. And then Wedge presses forward, gripping Bodhi’s hip to steady the both of them. 

The sound Bodhi makes is so small and breathy that Wedge almost can’t hear it over his own sharp rasp. Even still it manages to make pleasure jolt in his belly. He worries for Bodhi’s comfort for a mere fraction of a second, because Bodhi is pushing back into him, sending him deeper, a shivery moan on his lips. Bodhi’s hand darts back for the one Wedge has clenched at his hip, circling his wrist in a tight grip. 

A smile touches Wedge’s mouth - because he knows that. That’s not a _no_ , that’s a _need_. And if they weren’t so tightly wound, he would oblige Bodhi’s need to touch and cover him with his body. Or curl up around him with his mouth pressed just under Bodhi’s ear, so he could whisper little moans and praises as he fucks him. 

He has to shove that thought away as he keeps pressing into him with short rolls of his hips, because if he keeps thinking about it this is going to be over before either of them are satisfied. And the way Bodhi squirms against him when he bottoms out doesn’t help anything. Wedge kneads a hand along the length of Bodhi’s spine, fingers curling into his already twisted t-shirt to hold him still. 

Even before Bodhi’s demands of “Move, move-- _please_ \--” reach his ears, he’s already drawing back, revelling in the way he can feel every part of Bodhi shake like this. His thrusts start slow and controlled, trying not to tell Bodhi exactly how much he’s missed this - how much he’s missed the feel of Bodhi hot and tight around him, writhing and gasping for his touch, his cock.

When Bodhi’s moans begin to get louder, more insistent, he can’t help but oblige, as much as he would love to tease Bodhi, to fuck him slowly until they’re both out of their minds. “You’re so… needy,” he teases without cruelty. He punctuates it by tugging at Bodhi’s panties, stretching them further out of the way until he hears the telltale pop of stitches snapping. They’re going to be _ruined_ after this, and Wedge both mourns and delights in the idea.

Bodhi answers him by shoving his hips back into the next thrust, making it perfectly clear that if Wedge doesn’t give him exactly what he needs, he’s not above _taking it_. “Just fuck me already…” His word are as much of a plea as it is a threat. 

He rumbles wordlessly, adjusting his grip on Bodhi, tightening his hold on his hip and twisting a hand tighter in his shirt, guiding him into a better position. He picks up the pace, long, smooth thrusts that scatter any of Bodhi’s words into breathless whimpers. Each time Wedge pushes into him, another desperate, almost voiceless sound leaves Bodhi’s lips.

Wedge shifts his stance, tugging Bodhi back into his thrusts to make up for the lack of leverage he can get perched on the couch like this, huffing a rough laugh when Bodhi shudders and lets out a bitten off cry. Bodhi finally lets go of his wrist, hand failing weakly back, trying touch touch as much of Wedge as he can. He manages to lift himself up with his other, manages to press himself back. And Wedge finally gives him what he wants, grabbing Bodhi around the chest and pulling him up and back against him.

“Wedge!” Bodhi yelps as his weight falls against Wedge’s chest, the new angle sending him deeper, changing their rhythm. He squirms, practically in Wedge’s lap now, a sobbing little moan on his lips. Wedge slides a hand up his belly, up under his shirt, pressing a palm to his chest so he can feel Bodhi’s pulse racing against his palm. _This_ is it - what they both needed, past the overwhelming need to fuck. Bodhi goes taut against him, trembling even as he takes control of the rhythm, doing his best to lift his hips without going too far from him. He lets Wedge hold him up as he rocks in tight little jolts on his cock. 

He muffles a curse into Bodhi’s throat, a snarl of _“Fuck!_ ” that’s so rough that it may as well be unintelligible. His arms tighten around Bodhi, clutching him closer, bucking up into him as Bodhi pushes back. “Here, need you…” Wedge barely manages to get the words out, nudging at Bodhi’s collarbone until he gets the message to turn his head, already seeking out Wedge’s kiss. It’s uncoordinated and slick, more gasping against each other’s mouths than a kiss. 

Their pace reaches a feverish pitch, and Wedge cups a hand between Bodhi’s legs, stroking him through the now damp lace. The realization that he’s so _wet_ that he’s soaking through his delicate panties is almost too much. It’s all Wedge can do to keep from coming first, especially when Bodhi _keens_ at his touch and clenches around him, his back bowing and his head tipping back against Wedge’s shoulder.

“You gonna make a mess of your new panties?” Wedge hisses in his ear, smiling when Bodhi sucks in a sharp breath at his words. He can feel how close Bodhi is in the way he trembles, in the way his hands paw at Wedge’s arms in search of purchase. He strokes at Bodhi’s cock through the fabric with a little more pressure. “Yeah, you are. Come on, I want to feel you.”

Bodhi comes on the next thrust, when Wedge squeezes a hand around him as he ruts against him. The most gorgeous, broken little sound on his lips as he tenses against him, _around him_ , rocking into Wedge’s hand and back onto his dick. He starts to dip forward and Wedge goes with him, pressing Bodhi onto his stomach on the couch again. Wedge curls up against his back this time, Bodhi’s name on his tongue as his thrusts go uncontrolled and quick. Until the tight coil twisting low in his belly finally snaps, white hot pleasure rippling through him. His own strangled groan is muffled into Bodhi’s hair, nuzzling into the scent of him as his orgasm overtakes him. 

Wedge plants a shaking hand into the couch cushions at Bodhi’s side, lifting himself off of the other man enough to keep from crushing him. But despite that, Bodhi makes a displeased little noise. Wedge laughs gently, brushing soft kisses against his hair. 

Instead of getting up, not that he would have the strength for it anyway, Wedge simply turns them both onto their sides on the sofa, with Bodhi spooned up against his front. He slings an arm around Bodhi’s waist and holds him there, the two of them gasping for breath and riding out the last tremors of orgasm.

He hushes Bodhi with kisses, soothing his wince as he pulls out. Bodhi squirms weakly against him, nestling against his chest, and something just… settles into place in Wedge’s chest. The moment Bodhi relaxes against him, his hand on Wedge’s arm and their legs tangled together, the frantic, sharp feeling in his head goes blissfully quiet. And everything is peaceful and as it should be.

 _Almost_ as it should be.

They haven’t even caught their breath yet when the sound of a key in the lock drags Wedge up from the pleasant afterglow. 

“Hey, I’m home--”

Bodhi tries to scramble up so quickly that he nearly falls off the couch, saved only by Wedge’s hold tightening around his waist. His eyes have gone wide, an almost animal panic in them, his already flushed face going several shades darker.

Luke stands in the entryway, the door closing slowly behind him where he’s clearly forgotten about it. He’s got his own blush forming, clear enough that Wedge can see it from here. 

“Uh,” Luke falters. “Hi.” His eyes swing from Bodhi to Wedge and back, taking in their glassy eyes and the dishevelled, half removed state of their clothes - and finally down to the damp, utterly ruined panties Bodhi’s wearing. 

“Luke!” Bodhi yelps, his voice so hoarse and utterly _wrecked_ that it finally breaks Luke’s trance, his eyes darting up with a telltale gleam. Wedge bites the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning. “I’m so… _so sorry_ \--”

“What?” Luke giggles, and it’s only somewhat hysterical. Disbelieving and, if Wedge isn’t mistaken, more than a little turned on. “No, no, don’t start that. This is great! It’s about time, honestly. The two of you have been driving me nuts all week.”

Bodhi sputters, clearly having no idea how to respond to that. Wedge takes the opportunity to pull Bodhi back down onto the couch with him, which he does with only a minor, mortified protest. Wedge props his chin on Bodhi’s shoulder, stroking a hand low on his stomach - a touch that makes Bodhi shiver against him. “How was old Ben?” Wedge drawls knowingly. “I’m surprised he let you go so soon.”

Luke smiles, too innocent. “Oh, the demonology collection? I got done with that hours ago.” _He knew it._ “Ben was teaching me some fencing before I left - it was a lot of fun, actually.” He kicks his shoes off, and goes to hang up his jacket, chattering at them while he does. Looking for all the world as if he’s forgotten their debauched appearance.

He can feel the indignant sound vibrating in Bodhi’s chest, and chuckles, leaning over him to press a quick kiss to his mouth. When he pulls away, Bodhi shoots him a wide eyed stare. Wedge only smiles, and settles down onto the couch again.

Luke wanders into the living room a moment later, a beam of sunshine in their otherwise dim and plain apartment. “I’m going to go start dinner,” he announces, stopping beside the couch. He darts down for Wedge first, and Wedge stretches up to meet his kiss halfway. Bodhi is next, with a hand cupped around the back of his neck when he jumps. “I’ll let you know when it’s ready.” And then he slips away into the kitchen without another word.

Bodhi remains frozen where Luke has left him, staring after him in what Wedge can only describe as _dumbfounded_.

“Thanks, Luke!” Wedge calls after him. He shifts, getting comfortable again, pressing his nose to the back of Bodhi’s neck.

“Should I… shouldn’t I get up?” Bodhi mutters.

Wedge draws him closer, effectively trapping him. “No,” he says. “Stay here.” He kisses and nuzzles at Bodhi’s throat, with the sound of Luke puttering away in the kitchen in his ears. “I missed this,” he whispers close to Bodhi’s ear. “Missed both of you.”

Bodhi is quiet for a while. “Missed? I uh, we’ve been here the whole time.”

He smiles. “Yeah, I guess you have.”

**END.**


End file.
